


The Five Times You Saw Diego Shirtless

by humorous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Gen, diego is a smug lil bitch, i'm trying to make this as gender non-specific as possible, like LOTS OF TEASING, lots of teasing, oral sex (male receiving), reader is allison's childhood friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humorous/pseuds/humorous
Summary: For something you never intended on happening, it sure happened a lot.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Reader, Diego Hargreeves/You
Comments: 29
Kudos: 266





	1. Breakfast Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> hehehehe i hope you enjoy!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just wanted some food. But Diego was there.

The first time you saw Diego shirtless was unintentional, as some first times usually were. You hadn’t been trying to catch him without his trademark black turtleneck on(he seemed to wear it at all times, anyway), but alas. There you were, frozen in the doorway of the Hargreeves basement kitchen as you spotted him, his back facing you as he rummaged through the fridge that morning. 

You’d been friends with Allison Hargreeves since you were young, but your friendship had been a strange one, to say the least. You’d hardly been able to step foot in Reginald Hargreeves’ mansion more than a few times throughout your life due to his strict rules about having friends outside of the Umbrella Academy. However, Allison’s mother, Grace, had persuaded the cold, cruel bastard to allow for a few visits from friends for all seven siblings. 

Allison was the only one of the bunch that really _had_ any friends other than her siblings, so you were the only outsider regularly allowed inside the towering mansion. Of course, it was only for short visits, and she’d tried to sneak you in for an impromptu sleepover one night when you were twelve, but Reginald seemed to have eyes everywhere. 

After that incident, you’d been banned from the house, and no amount of pleading from Allison, nor negotiation from Grace would change that. 

Now, years later, and after Reginald’s long overdue death, you found yourself in the intimidating house again, staying a few nights simply because you could, and because Allison wanted you there. 

Well...finding your best friend’s brother shirtless in the kitchen the morning after arriving wasn’t exactly what you’d had in mind. 

It had been close to eighteen years since you’d seen the knife-wielding boy, who had obviously grown into a man over those years, his body changing and shaping into the man you saw now, who still hadn’t noticed you were staring at him. 

_I’m not staring,_ you insisted, blinking a few times. _I’m just...surprised to see him, that’s all._

He was currently hunched over, grumbling something inaudible as he searched through the fridge. You almost cleared your throat to alert him of your presence, but the sudden flex of his back as he reached for what he wanted gave you pause. The muscles on his back were prominent and rippled down the tanned expanse of skin you could see, his spine a welcoming divet in his back that crept down to the waistband of his gray sweatpants. 

You could hardly register his movements, blinking your mind clear of all thoughts when he turned around and flinched upon noticing you. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered in a battered sigh. “Don’t sneak up on a man like that.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice still soft and scratchy from sleep. “I, uh, I was just—” You meant to keep going, to make up a pitiful excuse for why you hadn’t announced your presence to the objectively attractive man in the kitchen, but he’d turned around again. 

Reaching into the cabinet, Diego pulled out a tall glass. In his other hand was an egg, which he proceeded to crack, pouring the raw contents into the cup and downing them in one sip. 

You couldn’t help the confused expression on your face and the disturbed cough that burst from your lips, which you slapped a hand over. You’d seen Rocky drink raw eggs, but that was in a movie. You never thought people would actually subject themselves to that. 

“Isn’t that, uh...gross?” You asked softly, padding closer to him but keeping your distance by pausing on the opposite side of the kitchen table. Pointing a finger vaguely at the now empty glass, you cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, that’s _raw egg_.”

He chuckled lightly as he rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. “Oh, it’s disgusting,” he reassured, “but it’s better than cooking out all the nutrients and just having them scrambled.” His eyes met yours and held them for a second, before narrowing them in thought, scrutinizing you. “What’s your name again?”

The disappointment in your gut surprised you, as you weren’t sure why you cared whether or not Allison’s brother remembered you. You told him your name gently, offering a smile that he merely stared at, his face relaxed and lips slightly parted. “What?” You said, crossing your arms over your pajama shirt. 

Diego shook his head. “Nothing,” was his response, though you wished there was more. “Just never thought I’d see you here again. Not after Allison tried to sneak you in.”

You cocked an eyebrow. _He remembered that?_ Shrugging, you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt to keep yourself from looking anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah, well…” you trailed off, only to finish dumbly, “Here I am.”

The silence only lasted a few more painfully long seconds before the towering man across from you straightened, jabbing a thumb behind him to gesture at the fridge. “You want anything for breakfast?” 

“Um…” you started, but you got distracted by the revelation that Diego Hargreeves had a nipple piercing. A small, metal ring that looped through the skin, just begging you to stare at it. 

Or better yet, _touch it. Lick it. Pull on it with your teeth._

Unfortunately, you’d been openly staring at his chest, as was obvious once he cleared his throat and drawled, “You know, my eyes are up here.”

Shaking your head to clear it of any and all sinful thoughts, you rubbed your eyes and mumbled another, “Sorry.”

Diego dragged his eyes over your body and smirked. “No harm done,” he said in a low voice, “it’s not like I got it just for _me_ to stare at.” 

Thank god he turned around before he could see your widened eyes and furious blush creeping up on your cheeks. Looking down at the floor, you covered your mouth again with a palm as you fought to stifle a giggle. _What is he doing to me?_ You’d never been rendered speechless before, and for some reason the sight of Diego’s strong, deliciously toned torso was enough to do it. 

“You know, it’s nice to see you again,” he said from the fridge, pulling out a gallon of milk and setting it beside the pancake mix he’d found in the pantry. “I mean, it’s nice to see that dear old Allison still _has_ friends.”

You meant to say something in return, something snappy perhaps, but your eyes were travelling down, down, down… 

His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the swell of his back making you think of what his clothes were covering, what you _couldn’t_ see. His back, other than a few thick scars, was clean of all impurities, an inviting empty canvas. Never before had you wanted to rake your fingernails down someone’s back so much. 

A tutting noise behind you made you blink sharply, jerking your head to find Allison shuffling into the kitchen. “Jesus, Diego,” she groaned, “put a shirt on. No one wants to see that, especially not this early in the morning.”

He turned his head to make a face at his sister before flicking his eyes to yours, that same knowing smirk gracing his lips. “It’s not my fault,” he said, feigning annoyance, “your friend managed to sneak up on me.”

“Thank god _someone_ can,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “I was beginning to think it was impossible.”

Something inside of you turned deliciously at the knowledge that you were the only one that had successfully surprised the calculating Hargreeves brother, a feat you’d achieved without even trying. 

Diego shook his head. “No, I was just caught off guard.” He fixed you with a challenging stare, though his eyes (again) grated up and down your body and you suddenly felt hot underneath his gaze. As he side-stepped the table to oblige Allison’s request, he walked by you a little closer than was necessary and hummed darkly, “Won’t happen again,” leaving you with weak knees and a head lacking any sort of innocence.

Allison crossed her arms after he was gone, looking at you expectantly. “Don’t even think about it, babes,” she chided, “he’s not worth it. Nor is he your type.”

Cheeks still hot and flushed, you ducked your head and grinned, though you bit your lip to keep it from growing too wide. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied smoothly.

 _He’s not your type,_ she’d warned _._ Oh, but he could be. 


	2. In The Foyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine was fine. It was normal. And then Diego came back from a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter than the last one, but i hope you still enjoy it!!

The second time you saw Diego shirtless was several months later, when you were yet again visiting your childhood friend. This time, however, you were forced to stay for as long as the government deemed it necessary, as a global pandemic had taken over everything familiar in your life. 

You’d gone out with Allison to get some more groceries for the week, a trip that had taken no more than an hour since the list was always the same, including a “bonus item” that each sibling requested. Luther wanted Oreos, Diego wanted pistachios, Allison got chocolate ice cream, Klaus requested gummy worms (“Sour, if you could be so kind.”), and Vanya, without fail, asked for a large box of vanilla wafers. 

Stepping into the large mansion that had acted as your home for the last few months, you waited until the door was closed to take off your cloth mask, feeling a cool draft on your cheeks as they were uncovered to the air conditioning. 

Allison offered to take the groceries to the basement and pack them into the fridge, as it was routine for her to do ever since quarantine started. What she would never admit to anyone but you was that it made her feel like a mother again. Like she had some sort of parental responsibility, even if it was for her childish siblings rather than her own daughter. 

Leaving you in the foyer, Allison carried the bags away to the kitchen. You shuffled toward the dark-wooded table in the center of the room, where a multitude of items lay strewn on its surface. The one you were looking for was the outrageously large bottle of hand sanitizer, which you used to clean your hands. You’d wash them later, but this would do for now. 

Reaching into your pocket, you fished out your phone and a chocolate bar that you hid in your pocket the second you got out of the store. Klaus had a particular proclivity for stealing your candy despite getting some every week, so you’d learned to hide them. 

Boosting yourself to sit on the table in the foyer, you lazily looked through your phone for a few minutes before the door clicked open, squeaking slightly on its old hinges. 

Your eyes flicked up to see who was coming in, your breath hitching as you recognized the chest of Allison’s brother. His hair was stringy and matted to his forehead in places, and you didn’t have to be close to him to know that beads of sweat dripped down every inch of him. 

Diego unhooked his black mask from his ear and sucked in a deep breath, lifting his hooded eyes to you. A slow, smug grin crept on his face. “Waiting for me?”

You’d been living with Diego for months now, so you had progressed past your first experience seeing him shirtless, where you’d spoken in broken sentences and blushed like an embarrassed child. Now, you weren’t afraid to throw his smirking remarks right back at him. 

Shrugging, you set your phone on the table beside you and leaned back on your hands. “And if I was?”

Diego, still breathing somewhat heavily, looked down at the floor for a second before looking back up. “You know, you should come on a run with me sometime.”

Feigning offense, you fixed him with a glare and blurted, “Are you saying I need to exercise more?”

_ Ha. _ You had him. His eyes widened just a sliver of an inch as he hastily tried to backtrack his statement. “No, that’s not what I meant, I—”

You chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m kidding, knife boy.” Scoffing, you shook your head. “Absolutely not. I’ll cut off my own hand before I go on a run.” Your eyes dropped from his and trailed down his neck, lingering on his rippling abdomen that was still contracting with every breath. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, an involuntary response to seeing his glistening chest right in front of you. 

His black shorts had slipped down his hips while on his run, which revealed a slight patch of dark hair below his navel that disappeared under his waistband. 

You may have been embarrassed before, but for some reason, you found yourself openly staring at his chest, entertaining every sinful thought that crossed your mind as he stalked closer to you, running a hand through his hair. 

You wanted his salty skin on your tongue, licking a stripe up his neck so you could find his most sensitive spot. You’d seen him smirk too many times over the last several months, it would be  _ heavenly  _ to wipe that infuriating grin from his lips and make him slacken his jaw, to make it fall open in a perfect, pleasurable circle as you did  _ anything you wanted _ to him. 

“Suit yourself,” Diego shrugged, cutting into your thoughts. “It’s more fun to come home to someone, anyway,” he added with a wink. Obviously his smug arrogance had returned. 

Despite every effort, you couldn’t help it. You choked on nothing but air at his words.  _ Come home to someone. _ It sounded horribly romantic and disgustingly domestic, but something in his eyes made you want to be that person. It made you want to be a good, doting partner to the man hovering in front of you, his face only a few feet away.

He chuckled at your shocked reaction, shaking his head. “I’m only kidding,” he said, before reaching forward with a hand and deftly stealing the chocolate bar from your grip. “I mean, if you want me to be.”

And just like that, you were speechless. Again. Only twice in your life had you been so lost for words, and both times, Diego had been the cause. 

With your lips slightly parted, you watched closely as he unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite, noticing how his soft and frustratingly kissable lips wrapped around it. Chewing slowly, he flashed another wink at you and drawled, “Thanks for the chocolate.”

Without another word, Diego strutted from the room, leaving you trembling with the aftershocks of his rumbling voice so close to you and the shameless arousal that twisted in your gut. 

Blowing out a deep sigh, you closed your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath. As much as you hated it, there was something of a carnal desire in you that yearned for another chance to see him like that again. Because who knew what would happen next time?


	3. Shower Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the whole time you'd known him, Diego was talkative, cocksure, and almost a jerk. But not that night. That night, he was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hellooooooo, i hope you enjoy!

The third time you saw Diego shirtless was after dinner one night. It had been a rather boisterous feast for the Hargreeves clan, and the look in Allison’s eye had told you that she was pleasantly surprised at the unfiltered kindness from her siblings. Many years had gone by—too many, Allison would argue—of hardly any interactions between the seven kids of the Umbrella Academy. Living together again was a concept none of them dared to even think about. And yet, here they were. Living together, and getting along. 

Diego, however, was uncharacteristically quiet during dinner, a strange fact that you caught onto almost immediately after he gave no reaction to Klaus’s first lewd joke of the evening. He’d eaten his food, sitting quietly at the table before excusing himself afterwards and retreating to his room, presumably. 

There was no reason for you to wonder where he went, or to even notice that he’d been acting strangely. But just a few minutes after he’d left, you found yourself finishing the rest of your meal in seconds before standing up abruptly, though you did your best to look subtle about your sudden movements.

“I…” you announced, before trailing off as you didn’t know what your excuse was going to be. “I...I’m tired, I’m just gonna go get ready for bed. Yeah, I’m exhausted,” you assured Luther when he gave you a funny look. “Really. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

You tried to ignore Allison’s raised eyebrows and warning look as you turned to walk away. 

This wasn’t evidence of being attracted, or even  _ interested,  _ in Diego. This was...well, you were just…

Alright, maybe you didn’t actually know what this was about. All you  _ did _ know was that you needed to see what his deal was. Why the ever-arrogant, ever-talkative Diego Hargreeves had been virtually silent for the last three hours. 

The dark-wooded corridor was quiet when you climbed the stairs, but as you padded quietly closer to Diego’s room, you could hear the soft splash of water on a tiled floor.  _ Oh. _ He was in the shower, and you’d gone up to..to what? Talk to him? See him? Ask him if he was okay? 

Sucking in a breath, you heard the flow of water stop and the gentle distant sigh. You were leaning on the wall directly across from his childhood bedroom, and you didn’t think of how unnatural it would seem until he came around the corner, a towel wrapped around his waist and his eyes downcast. 

“Jesus!” Came his shocked exclamation, freezing in his tracks as he lifted his eyes to see you standing there. “What did I tell you? Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Or what?” 

You hadn’t intended on it coming out like that. So flirtatious, so inviting. It obviously wasn’t the time for such things, as he looked about ready to collapse on his bed and sleep for days. You almost burst out an apology, but then you noticed his trailing gaze over you, moving slowly up and down from your eyes down to your ankles.

“ _ Or _ ,” he said slowly, “I’ll do something I’ll regret.” He kept his hand tightly gripped on his towel, keeping it from slipping any further down his hips. 

_ Too bad, _ a slippery voice in your head remarked, making you shake your head to clear it.

Still, your mind hovered on his words.  _ I’ll do something I’ll regret. _

“Like?” You asked as he turned around to walk into his room, resisting the urge to follow him and his bare torso into arguably his most vulnerable space in the entire house. Something in you was beginning to expect seeing him shirtless around the house now, even though it had only happened three times. 

He scratched under his left pec and cocked an eyebrow at your question. “Like throwing a knife at you,” he deadpanned.

Your stomach dropped, but not entirely in shock or fear. Was there... _ no. _ You wouldn’t admit it, not even to yourself. You couldn’t admit that something about his low, gravelly voice suggesting that he would throw one of his knives at you was  _ remotely  _ attractive to you.

He must have seen something in your expression that made him backtrack his statement, as he shook his head, his wet, wavy hair swinging in front of his face. “Like I said,” he tilted his head, “I’d regret it.”

Where was he? Where was the cocksure, borderline-asshole that you’d come to know and almost  _ like  _ over the last several months? This man, this man with his dark eyes and his wet hair and his undeniable attractiveness, this man who apparently  _ didn’t  _ want to stab you...he was new. He was someone you’d never met. 

“Hey, are you…” you paused, not sure if it was worth asking. Maybe he’d scoff and turn away, never to tease you so delectably again. Maybe he’d tell the truth, give you a good answer. You took the chance. “Are you okay?”

Diego’s eyes lifted to yours quicker than you thought possible, quicker than his unnaturally fast reflexes. “Am I  _ okay? _ ” He repeated, his voice almost dangerously low. 

Your hand shot out in front of you as if to shield yourself from his verbal blows. “Sorry,” you muttered, “I didn’t mean to be weird, I just—”

“No one really bothers to ask if I’m okay,” he interrupted softly, in a voice so empty that it nearly broke you.

It was all you could do not to pull him into the tightest hug you’d ever given someone, but the thought of touching his bare body with your hands kept you from doing it, as you could feel yourself already getting distracted by what his muscles would feel like underneath your touch. 

“I’m usually not,” he added quietly, so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. He seemed to have forgotten that he was only standing in a towel. He’d even stopped retreating into his room, simply standing in the doorway and staring at you like you were a novelty, a diamond flickering in the soft yellow light of the moon. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You prompted. 

It took just a few seconds for him to ponder your proposal before he shook his head. “I never really talk about things like this,” he said. “I’ll be fine, I just...I need to just go to bed.”

Despite his soft eyes staring at you, he’d closed off any sort of conversation. Your shoulders deflated. “Oh,” you breathed, trying not to take it too hard, “okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later—”

The door clicked shut.

Blowing out a breath, you lowered your head. “I’ll see you later, then,” you finished with a whisper, not knowing why you’d said it. Of  _ course  _ you’d see him later, you  _ lived in the same house _ . 

But you  _ wanted  _ to see him later. It wasn’t just a typical farewell, you hadn’t said it to be kind, or cordial, you’d said it because you  _ wanted  _ to see him. Obviously he didn’t feel the same way, otherwise the door would still be open and you’d still be talking to him.

Dejected, you cast one more long glance at his door and slunk off to your room. 


	4. Piano Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were some things you didn't know about Diego.

The fourth time you saw Diego shirtless was only a few hours later, in the middle of the night when everyone had gone to sleep. The hallways were dark, no whispers could be heard, and every wooden board in the house that creaked all the time had finally gone quiet. Nothing could be heard. 

And yet, you were awake. 

You hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night on purpose. In fact, you’d thought that you were actually pretty tired after Diego shut the door in your face. After slinking back to your room—which happened to be Ben’s room when the kids were younger—you’d turned out the lights and gone to sleep, laying awake for a few minutes thinking of Diego’s empty eyes as they’d looked at you. 

They were so... _ sad.  _ You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling of loss in his eyes. It was mixed with guilt, grief, and even a little anger, it seemed. Either way, they were emotions so strong that you’d almost taken a step back when he was staring at you. 

Apparently he’d climbed his way into your mind rather easily, as you woke up when the clock read a time so late that it felt like the universe itself had stopped. You were in limbo, the house so quiet and still that you weren’t entirely sure you  _ weren’t  _ frozen in time. 

Tossing and turning for a few minutes, you did everything you could to fall back into a wonderful, dreamless sleep, but then you heard it.

A soft, almost inaudible noise that had you holding your breath, waiting to see if you would hear another one. 

It came.

It was a note, a note on an instrument you recognized only because you’d played it once during quarantine, wondering why it was in the Hargreeves mansion if none of the siblings had learned how to play.

At least, that’s what everyone had  _ told _ you.

_ That was a lie, _ you thought as you couldn’t help sitting up and walking out your bedroom door, intrigued by the soft  _ plunk _ of piano keys. 

The piano was in a room branching off from the main living room. The slow, broken melody continued to get louder as you crept nearer to the room, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as if you could tell who was playing by the sound of the piano. 

Opening the door silently, you paused as you saw Diego sitting on the bench, his back to you while he played a song you didn’t recognize. 

He was shirtless; the only clothes he was wearing were his gray sweatpants that he evidently slept in, the waistband of his plaid boxers peeking out. His shoulders were hunched over, his strong back curving in towards himself in a way you’d never seen before. Then again, you’d only started  _ noticing  _ him a few months ago. 

Before that, all he was to you was Allison’s brother with a knife obsession. Now, he was...you didn’t exactly know. 

Something about the way he was leaning over the piano, his fingers deftly plucking a melody from the stationary instrument made you want to stay quiet, let him finish his piece and go back to bed so you wouldn’t bother him. But your feet wouldn’t move. They were stuck to the ground like they were cemented to the floor. 

You waited until the song was over and the silence permeated back into the room before gently clearing your throat to alert him of your presence. 

Unlike the other times, he didn’t seem surprised to see you hovering in the doorway. “I heard you coming,” he said softly when you opened your mouth to ask. 

“You never told me you could play the piano,” you said dumbly, stepping forward into the dimly lit room and coming to stand just behind him. 

He shrugged. “How do you think I got these long fingers?” He held up his hands for you to see, and you fought the urge to entangle yours with his, holding tightly to him. Sensing your hesitation(but you hoped he didn’t know what it was for), he dropped his hands. “Never came up,” he said. “You and I aren’t really...we’ve never been…”

Nodding, you swallowed roughly. “Yeah,” you agreed, “yeah, I know.”

Diego cast a sidelong glance at the piano and then looked back at you, gesturing to the space beside him on the piano bench. “Wanna sit? You came all this way,” he teased lightly, though you didn’t see the usual mischievous spark in his eye.

Obliging his request, you sat next to him, your body suddenly acutely aware of how close he was. Your arms brushed against each other, and if you turned your head to the right just a little, you could see the metal loop in his nipple. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply to clear your head, but only succeeding in picking up the deep, fresh scent of his soap. “I’m sorry about earlier,” you said, “I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

He shook his head and looked down at his lap. “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly, his voice grating over your body. “I was just surprised you even cared.”

“Of course I care,” you protested weakly. “You were so quiet last night that I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he responded gruffly, though his words weren’t harsh. “I’m still not totally okay.” His fingers flexed and he began playing a jumbled mess of notes absentmindedly.

You waited while he thought, wondering if he would speak again. Finally, after almost a minute, he sighed. “Today was my— _ our _ —mom’s birthday.” 

“Oh,” you breathed, breaking your eye contact with him. “I...I thought—”

“Yeah,” he nodded grimly, “she was still a robot. But she always told us that her birthday was today. My dad couldn’t give a shit if she did, but  _ we  _ wanted her to have one. Me and my siblings. We wanted her to have something normal, something that would make her more like us.”

Pondering his words, you kept your eyes on his hands as they moved across the keys, his strong fingers flexing. “But no one said anything about it.”

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know. I think they forgot about it. They left the Academy, and they...forgot about it.”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could think to say, though you knew it was a weak response. 

“It’s not your fault,” he shook his head. “You didn’t know.”

A pregnant silence fell over the two of you for the next bit, but Diego kept playing a sad song on the piano, pulling the smooth notes from the strings hidden in the heart of the instrument. You didn’t want to do anything, you realized. You just wanted to sit here and watch him in his element, revealing a version of himself that he clearly didn’t show to many other people. 

“She taught me how to play, you know,” he continued gently, “Grace.”

You hummed in response, your eyelids drooping without warning. Apparently his playing had brought the fatigue back to your body. You didn’t realize you’d begun to lean into him until he let out a breathless chuckle. “Didn’t realize I could put you to sleep,” he joked.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, mumbling the words and blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep your eyes open. “I don’t know why I’m so tired all of a sudden.”

You could feel Diego’s eyes on you, and you met his eyes with your sleep-filled ones, feeling the heat of his gaze. “It’s okay,” he said. “I can walk you back to your room...you know, if you want.”

Closing your eyes again, you shook your head. “No, I...want to stay here. Keep playing,” you whispered, unable to keep yourself from laying your head on his shoulder.

He stiffened for a second, and you almost sat up straight again, but then he relaxed and reached into your lap to trace your fingers with his, a feathlight touch that had your stomach doing somersaults. “Just for a little longer,” he agreed before playing another song, slow again, but this one was sweeter than the last.

“I like you like this,” you said quietly, unsure if he could hear you. “Kind, and quiet, and gentle, like this.” His long hair was tickling your cheek as you rested on his bare, muscled shoulder, but you didn’t care. 

“Yeah?”

Nodding once more, you felt a grin creep onto your lips. “Yeah.”


	5. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all be building up to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheh i hope this was worth the wait!!!

The fifth time you saw Diego shirtless was when you tore it from his body with your own hands. 

You could hardly even remember what had led up to this moment, how you’d ended up being shoved against his bedroom door as he pressed his lips firmly to yours, your tongues caught in a fiery dance. 

His hands roamed from the back of your head to your hips, squeezing tightly as if holding on for dear life. Diego’s scruff scratched deliciously against your cheeks, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that coaxed a low chuckle from his. “Such pretty sounds,” he whispered, his gravelly tone distracting you from the way his hands gripped your wrists and pinned them against the wall, restricting your movements. “Such pretty sounds,” he repeated, pausing to hover just inches from your lips. 

You’d always prided yourself on being rather composed, but the complete restriction of movement and the way his tall frame was towering over you had rendered you speechless. You couldn’t help but jerk your head forward, craving any attachment from his lips that you could get, though he slyly backed himself away from you, smirking widely at the desperation that was no doubt evident on your face. 

Licking your swollen lips, your eyes flicked from his mouth to his own eyes, silently begging him to kiss you again.

“You want something?” Diego tugged your wrists away from the wall and used one hand to hold them above your head, the other going to rest loosely against your neck. “If you want something,” he hummed, letting his lips brush your earlobe, “then you’ve got to ask for it.”

The Diego you’d seen that night at the piano, the vulnerable Diego that you had to admit, you were intrigued to see more of, was nowhere to be found.  _ This _ Diego, the one holding your wrists above your head and growling deliciously in your ear, he was the Diego you were used to. 

The Diego that made your knees weak, your stomach flip, your head reel. 

There was no other thought in your head except for the one that knew he was all you wanted. Your jaw slackened as he continued his assault on your neck, his beard scratching your throat as he pressed sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin. Another moan escaped your lips, and you could hardly believe how quickly you’d submitted to his charm. 

If someone had told you just how  _ close  _ the two of you would become over the last several months, you would have laughed in their face. Diego had never shown an interest in you, nor you towards him. 

And yet, here you were, straining against his tight grip on your wrists, moaning incessantly despite every bone in your body willing you to hold onto the last shred of dignity you had left. 

“I told you,” he hummed, gently squeezing his hand around your neck before letting it fall lower, his long fingers tracing the depression in your clavicle and further down towards your sternum. “I told you,” he repeated, “to tell me what you want. Ask for it.” Capturing you in another breathless kiss, he whispered three words against your lips that made your eyelids flutter shut in ecstasy. “Beg for it.”

Usually, you spent most of your sexual experiences searching for your own pleasure, but there was something so irresistible about the way he was hovering over you, and your mind was running rampant with memories of his shirtless torso in front of you that only one request slipped into your head. “Let me touch you,” you gasped, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips.

The hooded look in Diego’s eyes suddenly brought new words to your head, and you couldn’t stop the flow of words from echoing in the tense space between you. “Let me feel you, Diego. Let me touch your chest, let me blow you so good that you see stars. I want to kiss you, I want to feel the cool metal of that goddamned nipple ring against my tongue.” 

His shock at your sudden outburst was palpable, his hands loosening just slightly on your wrists above your head. The minor movement allowed enough room for you to escape from his tight grip, shoving him away from you. 

“Yeah?” Came his hoarse reply, his abdomen flexing, clearly at the mere thought of you following through on those wishes. 

Nodding wordlessly, you licked your lips and dropped to your knees, hands splayed against his chest and raking your fingernails against his skin as you approached the waistband of his jeans. Fumbling with the belt, you finally got it loose and hastily pulled down his black pants and boxers to reveal his semi-hard cock that bounced gently. 

One hand steadied yourself on his thigh while the other reached up to wrap around the thick muscle, admiring it as if it were a priceless treasure. “Fuck, Diego,” you breathed, half surprised at the admission, “you’re so  _ big. _ ”

He grunted in appreciation, his mouth falling open. “Are you gonna…” he paused to take a breath. “Are you gonna blow me or not?”

Grinning gently, you tapped his thigh with one finger. “Of course I am,” you inhaled deeply, “I’m just admiring you. You look so good like this.  _ So good _ .”

It was then that you discovered Diego’s praise kink. Somewhere deep in your mind, you assumed it had developed out of his childhood trauma after having received little to no praise throughout his life, but you wanted to forget about that for the night. You just wanted to make him feel good, an action that you knew would make  _ you  _ feel good. 

Taking him slowly into your mouth, your eyes fluttered closed as you concentrated, pushing yourself as far as you could. He wasn’t just thick, he was  _ long.  _ Gagging only half way down, you retreated to catch your breath. A long spit string hung in the space between you, connecting your lips to the head of his cock. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, placing his hands on the back of your head and forcing you to look up at him. “Do that again.”

“But I can’t take it all,” you replied, just hardly lifting your eyes to stare back at him. 

He shook his head. “You will.” Widening his stance just a bit, he aimed his fully hard cock at your mouth and paused. “Won’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, swallowing roughly in anticipation. “Anything you want,” you confessed, the power dynamic practically giving you whiplash. One second, you had control of his every reaction, and the next, he was fucking your mouth with his dick. 

The most pornographic, wet sounds came from your mouth as he bucked his hips forward, shoving his cock in and out of your mouth faster than you could believe. “Take it,” he growled, “take it _ , puta _ .”

If he hadn’t been holding your head, you would have stopped moving to soak in the absolute bliss that washed over you. There was something so filthy, something so undeniably attractive about the way the Spanish word rolled off his tongue, the tongue that you wanted on every inch of your body. Instead, all you could do was moan pathetically, the vibrations on his dick making him let out a string of expletives. 

Only a few seconds later your head was being pulled off of him and you opened your eyes to see him blow out a tense breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he did his best to keep from cumming down your throat or on your face. 

_ You would have let him, _ a voice in your head sneered.  _ You would have taken it if he asked. _

“A little excited, are we?” You tried to tease him, but your voice came out all scratchy and hoarse from the abuse your throat suffered just seconds prior. Staring at Diego’s glistening cock that shone in the moonlight that sifted through the window, you grinned. 

He shook his head, his long hair falling in front of his face. “Can’t cum yet, darling,” he grunted, his chest heaving. “You’re still wearing your clothes.”

You looked down at yourself and realized he was right. You’d been too focused on Diego’s pleasure that you’d completely forgotten about shedding your own layers of clothing. Standing on shaky legs, you leaned into his chest in an attempt to take your shirt off, though you failed miserably. 

His touch was gentle but hasty as he fingered the hem of your shirt and tugged upwards, lifting it from your body and revealing your body underneath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered upon seeing your figure. “You’re gonna make me cum just lookin’ like that.”

Cheeks burning, you locked your eyes on his chest for a distraction. Hand reaching out, you let your palm lay flat against his sternum before trailing further down his stomach, just above the base of his cock before dropping your hand away. “Bed,” you croaked, hardly able to look him in the eye. “Bed,  _ now _ .”

Diego’s pupils swallowed his irises as he stared at you. His hands found yours and he whispered, “Anything for you.”

You’d never gotten chills from something anyone said to you, but that right there? That had you wanting to fall to your knees all over again. “Anything?” You smirked, hands on his stomach as you walked him backwards to his bed. “ _ Anything _ ?”

He nodded, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he fell back on the bed. “I meant what I said.”

You weren’t sure where it came from, but you found yourself lifting a leg and straddling his hips, your soft pajama pants still on. Hovering over his red-tipped cock that lay flat against his stomach, you savored the look of desperate anticipation on his face. You crept a hand up his chest and loosely wrapped your fingers around his throat, just like he’d done to you earlier. “Good.”

Dropping down onto him, you gently began swaying your hips over his, creating what you knew was a nearly painful friction between the soft skin of his cock and the rougher texture of your pajama pants. 

The sensation made him cry out, guttural groans and expletives(in both English  _ and  _ Spanish) streaming from his pillowy lips. “Oh my god, baby,” he moaned, “that feels so good, it’s so much, but it feels  _ so good— _ ”

You squeezed your hand tighter on his throat in response, cutting off his loud exclamation. “Hush,” you hissed, “we’re going to get caught.”

“I couldn’t give a  _ shit _ ,” he mumbled, reaching a hand up to hold your wrist that connected to his throat. “Let them hear us. Let them know exactly what we’re doing to each other.”

You couldn’t help it; you released his throat and leaned down to mold your lips with his again, feeling them slide against your mouth in a way that made you never want to separate from him. Lifting your hips a little to relieve the pressure on his dick, you swallowed the strangled moan that came from his mouth and traveled to yours.

It took more willpower than you wanted to admit to tear your lips apart and leave a trail of kisses down his jaw, then his neck, aiming for that ring that looked so intriguing. The second your mouth closed over his nipple, your tongue flicking the hard tip, you relished in the breathy moans that continued to float into the room. One of your hands snaked down to grasp his cock that was still rock-hard, stroking him. “Can’t believe we waited this long,” you mumbled when you lifted your head for a quick breath. 

Diego shook his head. “From now on, you’re with me. Every night.”

Nodding wordlessly, you leaned up to press one more kiss to his lips. “Every night,” you promised, letting your palm cup his cheek.

Continuing your assault on his dick, you moved down to take him into your mouth again. Bobbing your head up and down, you felt his hands slip onto the back of your head once more, stilling your movements. 

He allowed you enough room to lift your head away for just one sentence. “Please, Diego,” you begged, sucking deep breaths into your ragged lungs. “Please cum down my throat.”

“Yeah?” He grunted. “You want it?”

You moaned in response, your stomach doing flips and something deep and carnal inside of you threatening to jump out of you. “Please,” you repeated.

He lifted his hips and you used your hand to guide his cock back in your mouth. Once you felt the delicious weight against your tongue again, he resumed his previous pace of fucking your mouth with reckless abandon. “You want it? Then take it,” he said again. “Take it like a good little whore.”

You were gagging, choking, spitting on his cock, but he didn’t stop. Frankly, you didn’t want him to. You wanted him to release his precious seed down your throat, you wanted to taste the warm, salty nectar as it coated your mouth. 

“Holy shit,  _ maldito sea, _ ” he grunted incessantly, meaningless words pouring out of his swollen lips as he watched you get your throat ravaged by his thick length. “I’m almost there, baby, just stay right there, I’m gonna—”

_ I’m not going anywhere,  _ you vowed to yourself, doing your best to prepare yourself. 

It came out of nowhere, Diego stuttering on his words as he came in a wave down your throat. “F-f-fuck, I’m there,” he groaned, his hips faltering and falling to the bed to rest. “Your throat, baby. It feels s-so g-g-good.”

You greedily swallowed his salty cum as it hit the back of your throat, moaning appreciatively at the taste. His hands had slid down to the bedspread, too blissed out to keep his hands on your head. Sitting up, you let his cock slip from your lips, falling back to his stomach as it softened. 

Gently laying atop Diego, your legs straddling his hips lazily, you let a finger trace his lips. “Did you mean it?” You asked softly.

“I’m not sure I’m in the right mental state to answer any questions,” he heaved, his brow shining with sweat. “I think you just sucked my brain out of my dick.”

A breathy chuckle escaped you. “When you told me...every night. Did you mean it?”

“Do I want you here, in my bed, every night? Where I can have you all to myself for hours on end?” He smiled, his eyes still cloudy in post-orgasm ecstasy. “Fuck yeah. I meant it.”

You’d never thought it would end up like this. After seeing Diego shirtless for the first time, you’d thought it was the last.  _ Never again, _ you could remember telling yourself. It would never happen again. 

But here you were, laying in his bed, shirt off, on top of the man you were sure had never noticed you. If you’d have known this would happen…

Well, you didn’t know. But you had a feeling you knew what was going to happen next. 


End file.
